


feet first, don't fall (running again)

by TechnicalTragedy



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Family, Love, M/M, Running Away, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/TechnicalTragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy ran. He's been running ever since.</p>
<p>Percy is saved by Vox Machina, and they are good, they make him good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feet first, don't fall (running again)

**Author's Note:**

> well this got a little out of hand. title is from Roman Holiday by Halsey.
> 
> what can i say? i love my boys.

Percy has always considered himself something of a coward. Even when he was young, he would hide away in his workshop rather than be confronted for having done something wrong.

 

But the moment of peak cowardice, in his eyes, is when he left Cassandra to die. He looked her in the face, saw her wide, pleading eyes, her lips moving without noise.

 

Percy ran. He's been running ever since.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

When Percival meets them – the people who will become Vox Machina – he burns. He lets the rogue pull him to his feet.

 

“What's a human like you doing in a place like this?” the rogue asks.

 

Percival smiles humorlessly. “Could ask the same of you.”

 

The rogue laughs, his fingers tightening on where their hands are still joined. “I'm Vax'ildan. Vax to my friends.”

 

“Then you may call me-” Percival pauses, his full title almost spilling from his lips, “Percy.”

 

Vax's eyebrows twitch, something suspicious in his eyes. “Percy,” he says the name, tasting it.

 

Percy follows his group of saviors out into Stillben, and when the sunlight falls on him he feels something in him stir, something waking up from its slumber. It feels good, better than he's felt since he'd left his baby sister with arrows sticking from her. It feels right.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

There's hardly any room for goodness in their world. Percy is saved by Vox Machina, and they are good, they make _him_ good. Together, they save friends, children, emperors, and kingdoms.

 

They have fun at the parade dedicated to them after they save Emon, drinking and allowing themselves to relax. Percy, more alcohol in him than he's had in years, kisses his way through Vox Machina. They make fun of him later for being such an affectionate drunk, but he finds that that affection remains, a warm pulse against his breastbone.

 

The six months in which Greyskull Keep is built are uneventful. Percy builds a new gun, Bad News, and the name has him laughing. His friends scatter to the wind as he tinkers, thoughts of nothing but the gun coming to life under his hands.

 

(Vax had called them _family_ before they left, in the Elven tongue Percy had understood when he was a child but had since lost touch with. He recognized the word, the lilting quality to the language, and it settled something unfettered within his chest.)

 

Five months have passed when Percy looks up from his forge. The time spent on Bad News has left him gaunt and exhausted, but when Percy fires it for the first time after it's completed, he feels like it was worth all the time and effort. He presses his lips to the barrel of it, tasting black powder and iron and smoke. They're bad news, the two of them, born under bad signs.

 

He watches as the final touches are put on the keep. Vox Machina returns, Percy apparently the last to finish his own tasks. Everyone is changed in some way, whether it's obvious like Pike's new armor, or something less obvious, like the way Keyleth's eyes sometimes go a little distant, as if she's seeing through them all. Percy tries to talk to her about it, and she just smiles and tells him she distracted. He doesn't believe her, but doesn't push the subject.

 

“I love you,” he tells her. “Whatever's wrong, know that I – we – will always love you.”

 

She smiles at him again, real this time, her eyes suspiciously watery, “I love you too, Percy.”

 

Finally, Greyskull Keep stands before them, larger than life and looking like, Percy is hesitant to say, _home_. He sits in his room for a full two hours the first day they're allowed in, and if he closes his eyes he can almost convince himself he's back in Whitestone. Gods, it feels like a lifetime ago he was last in his city. He wonders if running was the right thing to do.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The Underdark is something Percy would rather not remember, but one part stands out, aside from killing the Beholder. He doesn't expect the kiss, but it isn't unwelcome. When they have a short moment between watches, Percy tries to bring it up. Vax just smiles, sly, and tells him to get some rest.

 

Despite this, Percy swears he can feel the phantom press of Vax's dry lips on his cheek for hours. When he finally goes to sleep, his nightmares are tamer than they've been in ages.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

They give themselves just a little while to recover from their recent adventures after the Underdark and Vasselheim.

 

“Percival, why do you do this?” Vax asks one day, out of the blue. They're both in the workshop, working on individual projects.

 

Percy stops hammering at the red-hot metal he’s working with and glances over at Vax. “Why do I do what?” he asks, voice somewhat muffled by his mask.

 

Vax purses his lips. “You work yourself into the ground. You work like you want to make up for something. Like you’re running out of time.”

 

Percy stares at him for a long moment, then plunges the metal into the water beside him. He sets his tools down, strips his gloves off, and pushes his mask up. “Tinkering is,” Percy starts, then stops, twisting his lips as he considers what to say. “Tinkering is what I know, Vax,” he finally decides on. He leans against his anvil, crossing his arms. “All I had before Vox Machina were my two hands and my brain. I had to do something, so I made my first gun.”

 

“You have us, now,” Vax says, “You have Vox Machina, you have family here. There’s nothing you need to prove to us by killing yourself with all this nonstop tinkering.”

 

A flash of anger flashes through Percy's mind, and he tries to suppress it. “This is what I’m _good_ at, Vax'ildan. This is what I can do for my family, to protect them and help them protect themselves. I don’t put such strain on myself for no reason, I trust you know.”

 

Vax holds out placating hands, smiling to try and ease the tension between them. “I understand you do this to help, but we’re worried for you,” Vax says. “ _I_ am worried about you, Percival.”

 

Percy sighs and he leans on the anvil more heavily. He rubs a hand over his face, leaving a trail of soot. “I know you’re just looking out for me, but I’m aware of my limitations. I promise you, Vax, that I will take your words and your worry into consideration. I don’t like much to go against my family’s wishes.”

 

“That’s wise, I think” Vax says, and stands. He crosses to Percy and reaches out. gently wiping away ash on his cheek. Percy stares at him, something unfamiliar in his stomach. “Family,” Vax says, wiggling his grayed fingers in Percy’s vision, “looks out for each other.”

 

Percy swallows, eyes darting down to the ground before returning to meet Vax’s. “Always, right?” he asks, sounding small and vulnerable even to his own ears.

 

Vax grins, settling Percy’s uncertainty some. “Forever and always, dear Percival,” he assures.

 

Percy’s fear melts away, the shadows receding to the furthest parts of his mind. He lets Vax lead him up the stairs and out, and Percy is sure he could stay happy like this forever.

 

Of course, eternity is never quite as long as it seems.

 

The return of the Briarwoods proves that much.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

They set off for Whitestone after the shitshow that is their final week in Emon. He's barely slept since that last encounter, since Vax almost died and Percy gave in ever so slightly to the darkness in his head.

 

( _Vengeance vengeance vengeance vengeance vengeance vengeance_... the smoke cloud whispers on repeat.)

 

They trek through the woods, walking until the group complains enough to get Percy to stop. He does so reluctantly, and insists on taking watch before anyone else could even begin to open their mouth. Vax volunteers to assist him.

 

Vax sits next to Percy, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees, joining in on the vigil. They sit in silence for a long while, Vax able to see past what Percy is able to. They’re in some abandoned cabin in the forest, long-empty but still sturdy and defensible. They're out on the covered porch, watching the trees and moving shadows.

 

“How are you, Percival?” Vax asks, voice pitched low, but still far too loud in the pocket of quiet they have to themselves.

 

Percy takes his eyes off the forest for a split second, looking to Vax. “Uh,” he says, swallowing and licking his lips as he turns his gaze back to the trees. “Not going to lie, I've been better.”

 

Vax nods. He waits a while before speaking again, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Not much,” comes Percy's immediate answer.

 

Nodding again, Vax pulls his cloak around himself, and looks off to keep his own watch.

 

Over the course of those long hours spent in silence staring off through the towering trunks, one of Percy's hands sneaks over to one of Vax's. It feels like some kind of apology. Vax accepts it without qualm, with nothing but forgiveness, and Percy feels light for the first time since the Underdark.

 

He knows he's in love with Vax. It isn't a comfort.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The smoke billows off of him, his mind twisted in two as he's both hunter and hunted. He stalks forward, the predator on the prowl, eyes trained on his prey. His mask comes down, beak protruding from the wreathing smoke, his gun almost invisible in his hand as he continues inevitably forward.

 

His wrath feels like it's charring him, peeling him open. The shadows cackle in his head.

 

Sir Kerrion Stonefell's face goes concave, his brain splattering against the wall behind him, and something inside Percy breaks.

 

He has a gap in his memory, mind consumed with the black smoke, eating away at his thoughts. Percy blinks and suddenly he's sitting among the roots of the Sun Tree. He thinks of the bodies swinging from it, decorated like the members of Vox Machina, and the sick curl in his guts he'd felt when they'd first entered the town is notably absent.

 

The next morning he wakes and feels off, like he's an unhinged door. Percy looks over at Vax, not yet awake but only lightly sleeping, and thinks of how delicate he looks. One would think they could snap Vax in half, if one didn't notice his lithe, muscular frame and that dark look he wears like Percy wears his mask.

 

“Percy?” Keyleth whispers into the silence, and he turns to her, trying to paste a normal expression on his face.

 

“Yes, Keyleth?” he whispers back.

 

The druid looks uneasy, her eyes trained to the right of Percy (she's looking at Vax, he can feel it as if she was looking into his own eyes). “You know I love you, right? Whatever is going on with you and these Briarwoods, we're here for you. We're _family_ ,” she says, and Percy hears Vax's voice hissing the Elven word.

 

The knot in Percy's chest loosens, and he gives her a genuine smile. “I know. I love you, too.”

 

She crawls over to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and laying her head on his shoulder. He hugs her close, closing his eyes. It isn't ideal, sitting next to the dead roots of this cursed tree, but he feels warmer with the druid holding him. Percy lets Keyleth hug him until the rest of the party is awake, and they set out.

 

Later, Sylas is dead. Delilah is captured. Percy is getting everything he's wanted for the past five years. It feels empty and worthless. His head is a mess of smoke and shadow, but he doesn't want to listen anymore. His revenge, while not complete, is in large part finished. Percy wants to feel okay.

 

Orthax reveals himself. And Percy, remade in his image, wants nothing more than to add this demon's name to his List. His companions, for reasons unknown, stand with him to defeat the shadow, and even assist in taking down Delilah when she tries to run.

 

Finally ( _finally finally finally_ ) the demon recedes, Delilah is slain by Cassandra, Percy's anger is cold. They throw Delilah's body into the acid pits, and Percy is forced to give Scanlan his gun.

 

When his List hits the bubbling surface, Percy tries to go after it but is restrained. The spot of cold in him is burned along with the gun, and Percy stands empty once more.

 

It is an odd experience, to be suddenly alone inside one's own mind. Orthax's occupation had been so true that perhaps every thought Percy's had in the past five years has been veiled in his corrupted influence. Now, however...

 

Now, Percy feels nothing, thinks nothing, _is_ nothing. What is he without Orthax? He was Percival, he was a scared, worthless child. But with the demon he was strong and smart and someone worthy of admiration and even the love of his family of choice.

 

Vax looks at Percy with something suspicious in his eyes, and Percy stares back impassively. And to Percy, even more so than being alone, it is a singular experience to look upon Vax and feel nothing.

 

Cassandra finds him in the night. He can see that she hasn't forgiven him for abandoning her, but she gathers him up in a hug, burying her face in the junction of his neck and shoulder and just breathing. He swallows hard and presses his nose into her hair.

 

“You know,” she says eventually, her voice choked, “even after all these years you still feel like home.”

 

Percy tightens his hold on her. “I've missed you,” he says.

 

“I love you, big brother.”

 

“And I love you, little sister.”

 

 

\- - -

 

 

They go home after Winter's Crest. Percy finds his workshop once more, thoughts of Whitestone out of his head, the only plan in mind to fix his guns. Now, especially now, the cold metal under his hands, the hot forge at his front, is all he has.

 

Vax still looks at him with something distrustful in his expression. Percy hates it.

 

He feels flayed, all his inner turmoil out in the open. He loves Vax. He can't have Vax. The knowledge stings.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Dragons destroy Emon. The events leading up to and immediately preceding Uriel's fateful speech are a bit of a blur to Percy. He remembers terror. He remembers finding Gilmore, he remembers finding the Clasp, he remembers taking survivors to Whitestone.

 

They go to Vasselheim, and only one thing is certain after that. Vox Machina needs to find those Vestiges if they want to save the world. So, of course, they head for the loch.

 

The loch is more of a puddle than an actual body of water, but after some investigating, they find that there is a structure underneath the surface. Vox Machina, along with their temporary companions, decide to camp for the night. Percy gets a few hours of sleep before he takes second watch with Vax.

 

They sit in silence for a short time, but eventually Vax starts to talk, eyes intent in equal measures on Percy and the forest.

 

“I believe you are a good man, if you listen to your better angels, and they're within your friends,” Vax says. “You have a family, if you want it.” And maybe that's what Percy's always wanted. He'd lost his so long ago he'd almost forgotten what it felt like, but Vox Machina lets him relive those days.

 

“I've been thinking a lot about what we're doing,” Percy says, instead of something he'll regret later.

 

“I think we all have.”

 

“The conclusion I've been coming to so far, and Pike being the exception to this rule, as she is the exception to so many things, is I think we're very broken people,” Percy pauses, then elaborates, “But, I think together, we are far greater than the sum of our parts, and I like who we are together, and I think that that's important.”

 

“I agree with that,” Vax says, turning his eyes to Percy.

 

“And I like the influence that everyone has on each other. And this includes you, perhaps taking some strides with yourself.” Vax gives a confused look, and Percy sighs, trying to find the words.

 

“How do you mean?” Vax asks.

  
“It's good to want things. It's very, very good to want things. It's also very very good to, uh,” Percy pauses, smiles a bit to himself, “have things. It's good to, to find the things that are important to you and move towards them. I'm in a place where I'm realizing I have to make decisions about what's important, and I'm a little envious that you seem to be ahead of the curve on that.”

 

Vax smiles without happiness. “Hm. I wish it felt that way.”

 

Percy lets out a huff of a laugh. “I know.”

 

After a brief bout of silence, Vax says, “Well, I started talking to you, and uh, I'm sorry if I've done anything to offend you.”

 

“Never,” Percy says.

 

“We're a bit of an awkward family. We are trying.”

 

“And I apologize for any of the mistakes I've made and, honestly, any of the mistakes I'm likely to make,” Percy says. This is the first proper conversation he's had with Vax in so long; he has so many things he wants so badly to say, and never enough time. “But, I am starting to imagine a better version of myself. I'm not quite sure who that is yet, but...” he trails off for a moment, before picking back up, his train of thought righted, “There is a destiny, I think for us all. Together.”

 

“This is all a lot bigger than us individually, now,” Vax says. His gaze on Percy is unwavering.

 

“We've been given mighty deeds to accomplish. We will rise. Or, if we fail, no one will ever know.” Percy says, and lets out a humorless laugh.

 

Vax laughs with him. “There's comfort in that, yes.” They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, staring out into the forest together. “I've said my piece.”

 

Percy thinks back to the many nights they'd sat together like this, back before Whitestone and the Underdark and the darkness in all corners of Percy. He remembers sitting side-by-side, fire burned down to cinders, and thinking he felt at peace, knowing Vax's keen eyes and quick wit would keep him comfortable. Maybe he's always been a little bit in love with Vax, even before he knew what it felt like. And maybe it's better that Vax love someone like Keyleth instead.

 

Moving slow, Percy leans against Vax, hoping he won't be rejected. It's been so long since he was last touched in friendship rather than passion, whether that be angry or erotic. And, just as slow, Vax leans against him as well.

 

The forest creaks and chirps around them, and Percy feels, for some indiscernible reason, at home.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Percy watches Vex fall, everything feeling so slow as he reaches out, trying to catch her. Her eyes stare up, unseeing. There is a ringing in Percy's ears, his breath is caught in his throat, and he feels his whole world crashing down around him.

 

They bring Vex back, miraculously. Kashaw brings her back, and Vax makes some kind of deal but breath enters Vex's lungs and the relief that pours through Percy is indescribable.

 

They return to Whitestone and Percy feels empty, gutted, stretched to his limits. He finds Vax.

 

Percy deserves the punch, he knows he does, but copper doesn't taste any better even when you know it's earned. The years between them fall away as Vax stares at Percy, jaw clenched.

 

“Goodnight,” Vax says. It sounds like a death sentence.

 

In the morning, Percy is gone without a trace.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

He heads south, no particular place in mind, just a need to get away. He's taken back five, almost six years now, to his first escape from Whitestone. Then he was unaware of himself, of the passage of time or of pain or of anything, really. Percy's not much older than he was then, but he feels like he's aged decades in the past handful of years. He was Percival, but now Percival is such a distant memory that it feels almost as if he never existed.

 

The horse beneath him trots down the dirt road, following the path that must inevitably lead somewhere that needs going. After a while more of easing down the road, Percy looks to his right. The Ozmit Sea is in the distance, just barely visible as a blue line on the horizon.

 

He swallows his remorse, his pride, his pain, and keeps moving forward.

 

Months pass. Percy travels Tal'Dorei, going from the west coast at Emon to the southern wilds of the Verdant Expanse and the Stormcrest Mountains, to the northern reaches of the Cliffkeep Mountains, to the eastern Lucidian Ocean. Eventually, Percy finds himself on the path to Stillben. He wants to see the place he began before he takes the final steps to the inevitable end.

 

Maybe Percy's been on this path for a long time. He became Percy on this path, and it feels right to end on the same path. Of course, that's if he assumes this _is_ the end of his path. He isn't sure why he feels close to the end, but at this point he's come full circle; Percy's found himself as alone now as he was at the beginning of his life. It may not be the end of his story, but Percy can feel some chapter on his life closing. He makes up his mind that he wants to save the world before the book shuts.

 

Stillben hasn't changed much since Percy was last here. He comes into the sleepy town after days of travel, his horse whinnying underneath Percy as if complaining about how long they've gone without proper rest. Even in the night the air is sticky and humid, but the town's nightlife is still present. Percy makes his way through the town to the Sunset Stride Tavern, putting the horse in the stable and feeding him two apples to treat him for his good work.

 

Music plays in the tavern, something jaunty but not too loud, and no one even looks up when Percy enters. He spares a glance for the job board, smiling to himself as he remembers Vox Machina assembled around a table near to it, victorious and happy. Father Vart stands behind the counter, his calloused Dwarven hands wiping down the wooden surface. Percy approaches and settles on a stool, watching as Moordek's face shifts through a myriad of emotions before solidifying into warm recognition.

 

“Been a while since I've seen one of you around here,” Father Vart says, extending a hand over the bar for Percy to shake.

 

Percy accepts the hand, glad to have a semblance of old familiarity after so many months of travel and seeing everything with fresh eyes. “Father Vart, I'm glad to see you're doing well for yourself. The tavern looks more lively than I remember.”

 

The dwarf waves a dismissive hand. “Pah! You're the one that looks more lively. Why, last I remember you were a meek thing, clutching a mug of ale like it was a shield. You look healthier, boy. The years have served you well.” He isn't subtle about craning his head around, as if looking for some unseen person. “And, ah, where're your friends you were here with last? You're still running with each other, right?”

 

Percy sighs, thinking of the people he still considers his family even after all the distance and pain he's inflicted on them all. “That's a long and complicated story, Father.”

 

The cleric-turned-barkeep shrugs, polishing the same circle of wood again and again. “I've got all night, and the best person to spill your heart to is a bartender. I've got ale, too, which helps.” Father Vart pours a mug without asking and passes it over, giving Percy a sly wink.

 

Percy sighs, but smiles. This is a good man, and Percy is glad that he'd picked this tavern to return to. He tells a condensed tale of the past few years, of Vox Machina's rise and fall and of the dragons, too. He leaves out some of the more sordid details, of course, still aware that he's speaking to a former man of the cloth. Even though he's cut the story down, it's still a couple hours in the telling. Percy has Father Vart laughing, gasping, nodding in understanding and, at a few points in the story where Percy's memory gets fuzzy or his eyes misty, encouraging him along. It's easy to speak with the dwarf, easy to trust him and feel confident that his confidence is put in the right man.

 

When the whole affair is recounted, Vart is a quiet a while, no longer even keeping up the pretense of scrubbing the bar. After a long, thoughtful look is leveled at Percy, Father Vart nods. “I lied a little, when you first came in,” he says, apropos of nothing. “Couple months back, one of your 'Vox Machina' was here, in my tavern. An elven one, long dark hair, carries thereabouts four daggers on his belt.” He nods again, apparently having read something in Percy's face. “Yeah. He came in, asking if you'd been around, and when I told him no he asked me if I'd tell you something on the off chance you did swing by.”

 

“What was the message?” Percy asks. He wonders if they'd checked Emon, if they'd kept looking.

 

“Eh, said he wanted you home, for one thing, and, ah,” Father Vart rummages around behind the bar a bit, eventually coming up with a thin envelope. “Knew it was written down somewhere. Here it is.”

 

Percy accepts the envelope with shaking fingers, overcome with nerves about what this paper will say. Never come back? We hate you? You abandoned us? He sits, staring at the folded message. He isn't sure he even wants to open it, because what if they can never forgive him for leaving?

 

He deliberates for a while, before coming to the conclusion that he can't live not knowing how his family fares. Carefully, Percy opens the envelope and retrieves the paper within, and is greeted with Keyleth's neat, tight script in a short letter. He starts reading.

 

 

_Percy._

 

_Please come back to us._

 

_Keyleth._

 

 

Percy lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, realizing distantly that he's shaking. He slips the paper back into its envelope, and the envelope into an inside pocket of his coat. He had expected a longer message, but for some reason the brevity of it is what affects him the most.

 

He wants to ride out immediately, spurring his horse on faster and faster, but knows it would be unfair to the horse. Instead he buys a room for the night and retires to it. He watches the lamp cast shadows on the ceiling until he falls asleep, mind still working over the path from here to home, and whatever paths may lead home in the future.

 

What he realized on the road, and what he'd realized months ago in the Keep courtyard, is that home isn't simply a place. Home is a visceral feeling, and, in his case, home is a group of people. Percy's home is his family, and where they go, he's sure to find the road that leads him back to his hearth.

 

The next morning Percy enters the main room of the tavern and is stopped in place, breath catching. Vax sits at the bar, hunched with a hand tangled in his hair, but present and real. Percy steps forward, taking a seat next to him and looking to Father Vart, signaling for a drink.

 

There is silence for a long beat, Percy accepting the drink and taking a long pull. Percy isn't sure how to initiate conversation, isn't sure there's even a way to, after all they've been through and the time they've spent apart.

 

“So. What's a human like you doing in a place like this?” Vax asks, tentative.

 

Percy fights the grin that wants to creep up on his face. “Could ask the same of you,” he recites.

 

“It's been a while,” Vax says.

 

“Let's not make small talk. I think we're beyond that. We hurt each other, I ran away, and now here we are,” Percy says. He looks to Vax, and finds his old friend is looking back at him, intense.

 

Vax edges closer. “I'm sorry. I haven't said it enough.”

 

“No,” Percy insists. “You have no reason to apologize. We both made our mistakes.”

 

Vax puts a hand on his arm. “Percy, I was blind. I should have realized how you felt.”

 

“Would it have changed anything? I reckon not,” Percy says, sharp. He sighs, turning to face Vax fully. “Vax, I came to terms with it a long time ago. There had always been this hope in my head, but now I know I wasn't deserving, or even if I had been, _ready_ for that. I've tried my hand at happiness, I've come close enough to taste it, but what I've come to realize over these past months is that people like me, well, the best I can hope to be is okay.”

 

“People like you?” Vax asks, confused.

 

Percy shrugs. “Wrecked. Ruined.”

 

“Oh, you don't really believe that, do you?”

 

Percy takes one of Vax's hands in his. “I believe that I have the power to make my own destiny. I didn't before, but I think that now I do. I'm going to help you fight these damned dragons. And if I must, I'll give myself so we succeed.”

 

Vax shakes his head, gripping Percy's hand. “No. Percy, we're getting you back. We can't lose you again. _I_ can't lose you again.”

 

“Vax, if I have to die to save even a single person, I will. Gladly,” Percy says, squeezing their joined hands. “I've come to terms with whatever my fate may be.”

 

“Percy,” Vax says after a beat, staring at him. “What's happened to you, over the course of these last months? You've changed so much.”

 

“I've done some soul-searching. I've taught myself to be better, to be a person worthy of the love of my family. You can disagree all you want,” he says before Vax can cut in, “but I never believed that I could ever deserve that. And now, I do.”

 

They stare at each other in silence, Vax visibly at a loss for words.

 

“I told you once,” Percy starts, feeling the need to explain himself further. “I told you once that I would do what it took to protect my family and help them protect themselves. At times I've lost sight of this. I've been blinded by my own hubris and greed. I've let my family fall to the wayside while seeking to further myself. No longer will I allow myself to do so. These past months, I've done a lot of thinking and asked a lot of questions, and every answer I've found has led back to all of you.” Percy smiles, feeling lighter than air and ecstatic. “I think Grog has it right. Our strength is in our friends, in our _family_ , because alone we are broken and jagged but together we are titans, Vax. Together, the world trembles at our feet.”

 

Vax nods. “We're all much stronger with each other than without, aren't we?”

 

“How _is_ everyone?” Percy asks.

 

“Everyone is well. We've had to traverse the world for the most part to get the Vestiges, and there have been some close calls, but we are all alive and we all have missed you so much,” Vax says.

 

Hearing talk of his family makes him yearn for them, and he thinks out to the horse waiting for him in the stables. “How did you get here? Did you bring a horse?”

 

“Of course not. Going places over land? Never. Keyleth sent me through the Sun Tree. The only downside is that I have no way to return,” Vax says.

 

Percy frowns right back at him. “They didn't send you with the teleportation stone?

 

“No, no. When Father Vart sent his message, he didn't say you were here, just that he had something for us. I'd figured I would just wait a day and go back to Whitestone the same way I came in,” Vax explains.

 

“Well, forget that plan,” Percy says. “We'll go back together.”

 

Vax raises his eyebrows, amused. “We will? Do you have some instantaneous method of transportation I don't know about?”

 

“Not precisely,” Percy says, smiling at Vax and pulling him to his feet. “But I do have a rather large horse who would love to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Is that a euphemism?” Vax asks.

 

Percy laughs, and exalts in the feeling of genuine happiness.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

It won't take a horribly long time to get back to Whitestone, just around a week. They ride all day and rest overnight, taking turns on watch. The night before they're due to arrive at Whitestone, Vax doesn't go to take first watch as he's been doing every night, instead continuing to stare into the fire like he's thinking hard about something.

 

“Something wrong, Vax?” Percy asks, cleaning his gun while keeping one eye on his friend.

 

“I don't know what to expect when we rejoin the party,” Vax says. “You've been gone so long, it's surreal to even have you here next to me. I know we all want you back, but I'm afraid of what everything means, at this point.”

 

Percy frowns down at the gun he'd taken from Dr. Ripley, his efficient cleaning slowing as he thinks. “I don't know what you mean,” he says.

 

Vax sighs, and Percy hears him shifting. Percy looks up to Vax moving closer, settling next to Percy and meeting his gaze all the while. “Whatever we are, Percival, whatever we've been, you're still family. We've hurt each other a lot, too much for us to start over the way I wish we could, but I don't think that what we are now has to be tainted by the bad blood we may still have between us.”

 

“Do you forgive me?” Percy asks, setting his gun aside and giving Vax his undivided attention. “Do you forgive me for killing Vex, for killing _your sister_ , because I was careless?”

 

“Do you regret it? Are you sorry for it?” Vax asks right back.

 

Percy exhales something that isn't quite a laugh. “Yes. Knowing I killed Vex'ahlia has been tearing me apart. It eats me, it haunts my dreams.”

 

Vax puts a hand on Percy's, and the warmth from his hand warms Percy. “Then I think that the only person who needs to forgive you is you.”

 

And that, well, Percy isn't quite sure what to say to that. He knows he's always been his own worst enemy, but how do you learn to absolve yourself in your own eyes? Percy tastes hope, and though he isn't quite unfettered, he feels as though he's beginning to be. Percy meets Vax's dark eyes, filled with the adoration he's been trying so hard to exorcise from himself, and knows that his love for Vax is as inexorable as it has always been.

 

“What if I can't forgive myself?” Percy asks, voice pitched low like anything louder than a whisper will shatter the illusion he's built around them.

 

Vax squeezes his hand, reassuring. “I believe in you, Percival. I've always believed you could overcome the darkness in you.”

 

Percy swallows, feeling overwhelmed. “Thank you,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he could say, at this point.

 

“You're a good man, even though you make rash decisions on occasion,” Vax says, still half-smiling and looking at Percy like he's something special, something treasured. His heart aches, but it isn't painful, just something familiar coming to life after a long sleep.

 

“Vax,” Percy says, and doesn't know how to finish the thought. He looks away again rather than speak, and he knows he'd do anything to make amends; he'd do anything to be that better version of himself he's dreamed of for so long.

 

They stay close for a while more, drinking in the presence of one another, this new territory, but eventually Percy knows he has to sleep so they can complete the last leg of their journey when dawn comes. He leaves Vax with one last lingering, longing look, then goes to sleep, even the dead fire doing nothing to lessen his warmth.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

There is a tearful reunion, in which Keyleth throws herself on Percy and hugs him so close he feels he's going to asphyxiate, in which Vex holds him and rocks back and forth as she whispers in Elven under her breath, in which Percy goes to his knees so that Pike can stroke his hair and comment on how much he's changed in his absence, in which Cassandra slaps him before enveloping him in a teary embrace, needing the comfort of having her brother near once again. Grog slaps him on the back and passes him a mug of ale, saying it's good to have his guns back, and Scanlan gives him a crooked grin as he steals the ale from under Percy's nose. They all eat dinner together, seated around the Whitestone banquet table as Cassandra tells Percy with pride that their city is flourishing and Vox Machina fills him in on everything he's missed from the past months.

 

After the hubbub dies down, there is a knock on Percy's door. There stands Keyleth, her green eyes soft but knowing as she gives him a smile.

 

“May I come in?” she asks, and Percy steps back, opening the door wide to allow her entrance. Keyleth enters, graceful as ever, and seats herself on the edge of Percy's bed. She looks up at him, running her eyes over his face.

 

Percy wrings his hands, feeling awkward now that the two of them are alone. “How have you been?” he asks, at a loss.

 

Keyleth sighs, still smiling at him as she reaches out, taking both of his hands in hers. “I've missed you. I was afraid you were dead, at the beginning, but when I asked the plants they ensured me of your health. I only asked once. After that it felt like an intrusion.” They stare at each other for a moment, Keyleth obviously struggling to find the words she wants to say. “I am older than you, Percy,” she finally decides on.

 

“Yes,” he agrees in the silence that follows her statement.

 

“As a half-elf, I will live much longer than you. Everyone in our group is slated to live a longer life than you,” she says, like it's something Percy doesn't already know. Even Grog, who as a Goliath isn't expected to have a full life, would be quite a bit older than Percy could ever be if he lived out his entire lifespan. “I don't want you to get hurt,” Keyleth says.

 

Percy frowns. “I'm not following. What does everyone outliving me have to do with getting hurt?”

 

There is a brief pause as Keyleth collects her thoughts. “To stay with him, you would need to do something stupid. You've already done stupid things, and so has he. Just, don't do anything _really_ stupid. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Percy agrees, not entirely certain he likes what Keyleth is getting at, but knowing that she can't understand how much he really has made himself change in these last months if he doesn't tell her. “But Keyleth, I'm not the same Percy that left months ago. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I feel more, well, _complete_ now. I've made peace with a lot of aspects of myself.”

 

Keyleth's eyes rove over him as if she's seeing him for the first time. She reaches up and runs her fingers over his scruff, only just halfheartedly shaved, and grins. “I can see it in you. Percy, tell me how you spent your time away from us.”

 

The two of them talk for hours, and it's almost as if Percy never left, never killed Vex, and Keyleth never found out he was possessed by Orthax. Eventually Percy's eyelids grow heavy and he sits back against the headboard. Keyleth curls into his side, her head on his chest, and Percy feels at peace.

 

“I know I've told you about my vision before,” Keyleth says when Percy is almost asleep.

 

He blinks drowsily, and shifts to try and wake up more. Keyleth doesn't even seem to notice his movement, staring off into the darkness of his room like she's staring at something he couldn't possibly see.

 

“I told you about how I saw my people, and how I saw myself as an old woman. I told you about how I saw all of you fighting in my name. Percy, there's something I didn't tell you, something I didn't tell anyone.” Keyleth's voice is weak, her hand trembling where it rests on Percy's belly.

 

“Keyleth, it's alright,” Percy says, stroking through her hair in an effort to calm her.

 

Her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt. “I saw all of us dead,” she says at length. “I saw fire and ash and Thordak above our corpses. Bodies lined the streets, men and women and children thrown around like trash. I saw the whole world consumed by flame, Percy.” Keyleth clenches her hand into a fist, balling up Percy's shirt and turning her face into his chest.

 

Percy keeps carding his fingers through her hair, thinking about what she's said while he makes mindless, comforting noises. Everyone dead or dying, with a dragon reigning over Tal'Dorei and all of Exandria, that was what lay in their future. No. Percy won't let that happen. They're stronger than this dragon, and they'll show the whole world just what their ragtag family can do.

 

“It's okay,” he says, and Keyleth's shaking has died down, but she's still white-knuckled and hiding her face. “We'll kill the son of a bitch. We'll slay this dragon like we've slain every other dragon that has dared to face us, and we'll take back our home. I swear it.”

 

Keyleth raises her head to look at him, her eyes glinting in the dark, and Percy feels determination settle around him like a cloak. He'll do whatever it takes, no matter the cost, to protect his family. They drop off to sleep slowly, Percy's mind whirling in white smoke.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The next night, Vox Machina celebrates together. Soon, they'll go to face Thordak with the allies they've assembled, but for tonight they can simply enjoy each other.

 

They drink and laugh and reminisce, talking over past victories and past failures. But most of all, they talk of what comes next.

 

“When we kill Thordak,” Scanlan says, because it's always when, never if, “I'm going to find Kaylie. I'm going to get involved and do whatever it takes. I'll be whatever she needs me to be.” It's amazing, how much Scanlan has matured since Percy's been gone. He feels sad that he missed it.

 

Pike smiles over at Scanlan, obviously approving of his goal. “Well, I'm going to check in on the temple in Vasselheim, and then I suppose I'll go wherever Grog goes.”

 

“Aw, you don't have to do that, Pikey,” Grog says.

 

“Someone needs to keep you out of trouble, Groggy,” Pike says in gentle reprimand. “Besides, I'm sure me and you have a lot more adventuring in us, yeah?”

 

Grog grins, the kind of smile he reserves just for Pike. “Yeah, buddy. Me and you. I wanna go find Zanror, maybe. Just see how he's getting on. Maybe even look for Kern, or go learn some shit from that Groon guy.”

 

“I think I'll go back to my people,” Keyleth says. “My Aramente is complete, and I think, maybe, I'm finally ready to lead them.”

 

“I believe in you, darling,” Vex says, leaning against Keyleth in solidarity. “I'm not sure what I'll do when Thordak is dead. Hell, maybe I'll even go with Keyleth to her people. Even if it's just for a while.”

 

Keyleth smiles, gentle and unrecognizable to Percy. “I would like that,” she says.

 

“I guess I'll see what the Raven Queen needs of me,” Vax says. “And I'll go where that takes me.” He

 

Percy considers. He's never thought about what he would do once Vox Machina was dissipated. It's always been something inconceivable to him. “I hope you all know you're welcome at Whitestone,” he says. “Any time, any of you are welcome here. I'll likely just return once this is all over with.”

 

Everyone thinks of the coming end, suddenly solemn. One way or another, Thordak is a finish to Vox Machina's story.

 

Scanlan abruptly raises his mug of ale. “To us,” he says.

 

Vox Machina lifts their drinks, everyone looking at everyone as if trying to memorize each other. “To us,” they echo.

 

Later, as they all find their ways to bed, Percy goes to Vax's room.

 

He stares at the door for a long moment, uncertain. He steels himself, finally, and knocks.

 

“Come in!” Vax calls from inside. Percy does so, shutting the door behind him.

 

“Percy! Is this meeting for business or pleasure?” Vax asks, giving Percy a sly smile as he sheds his cloak.

 

Percy exhales, working up his courage. “Oh, I don’t see why I would have to choose just one reason for being here.”

 

Vax quirks his eyebrows, obviously amused. “We all have to make a choice eventually.”

 

Deciding, _fuck it_ , Percy pulls a glove off with his teeth and lets it fall to the floor. “Pleasure, then,” he says.

 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Vax says. He tugs a boot off, the other joining it after a moment, and then begins work on his pants.

 

Percy mimics Vax’s movements, peeling off the other glove. He shrugs his coat off and it pools on the floor. He reaches for the first button on his shirt, only to be stopped by a hand on his own. He meets Vax’s eyes, and Vax is much closer than Percy had anticipated.

 

“Percy,” Vax says.

 

“Vax,” Percy says.

 

They stare at each other for a moment in stillness and silence, and then they’re kissing, neither quite sure who moved first. It’s slow and exploratory, a study and a benediction all in one. Right now, they’re the only two people in the world.

 

Vax’s deft hands work down Percy’s shirt, the buttons falling open for him like they were waiting for the opportunity to do so. Despite this he still manages to keep his mind on the kiss, which Percy has just enough wits about him to think is impressive. Percy reaches up to run his fingers through Vax’s long, silky hair, reminding him of the past before he dispels the thought and the dull ache in his chest at it. They both deserve better than that.

 

Percy’s shirt is pushed off of his shoulders, and Vax starts to lead him to the bed, his own shirt still on his body, which Percy thinks it unfair. He grabs at the hem of Vax’s shirt only to be stopped again.

 

“Percy, what you’re going to see isn’t all that pretty,” Vax says plainly. “I have a lot of scars and marks and I’m not sure you’re going to want to even look.”

 

Percy is unimpressed. He points to the web of scarring from his ill thought out method of charging Diplomacy and the multitude of burns and slashes and gashes and claw marks from the various fights he’s been in. He takes Vax’s calloused, scarred hand in his own and smiles.

 

“Scars are part of the territory, darling. You can’t do what we do and walk away unscathed. So instead you accept that your scars are yours, and while you don’t have to wear them as badges of honor, it feels much better to live in pride of your accomplishments than in shame of your defeats,” Percy says. He presses a kiss to Vax’s knuckles. “I think you’re gorgeous no matter what. Even when you’re covered in blood and dirt and you haven’t slept in days, you’re still beautiful.”

 

“You’re just saying that to get me out of my clothes,” Vax teases, but he looks more comfortable than he did before. He doesn’t stop Percy when he reaches for the shirt again. “You know, I always forget you have tattoos,” Vax says instead of grabbing Percy’s hands.

 

Percy raises his eyebrows as he raises Vax’s shirt. “One of them is for you,” he says. Vax’s shirt hits the floor.

 

Vax frowns at Percy. “You have a tattoo for me?” he asks.

 

Percy lifts his right arm, the one he'd gotten inked most recently, and points out the line of seven symbols down his forearm. “One for each member of Vox Machina. Including Trinket.”

 

“That's surprisingly sentimental, de Rolo,” Vax says, dragging his fingers down the line.

 

Percy breathes a laugh. “Yes, I suppose so. I,” he pauses, wetting his lips. “It wasn't all that fun, being away from my family. It was rash of me to run.”

 

“It was,” Vax agrees. “But you're here now. When it matters.”

 

“I'm sorry I wasn't there before. For the other dragons and the Vestiges,” Percy says.

 

Vax shakes his head, taking Percy's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. The intimacy of it makes Percy's heart skip. “It's alright. We're all alive. It would have been nice to have you there, but we're happy you've finally come home.”

 

At this Percy knows he can't restrain himself any longer, he has to risk losing what they have to possibly gain much more. “I love you,” he says. “Gods, Vax, I adore you. And I'm not sure if you could ever find it in yourself to feel the same way about me, not after everything I've done, but I need you to know that I am simply. Infatuated with you. And I have been for some time.”

 

Vax's face gives nothing away for long moments. Finally, he looks away, and Percy's heart sinks. “Percival, I,” he hesitates, sighing. “I didn't think it needed to be said that I return your feelings. The rest of them, they've made fun of me for the longest time for it. I thought you knew and just didn't...”

 

“Feel the same way?” Percy finishes for him, hopeful.

 

Vax meets his eyes again, a small smile playing about his lips. “Yeah.”

 

Percy finds himself laughing, delighted. “Vax! We've been such idiots, darling. Gods, we have so much time to make up for.”

 

“We can start tonight, then,” Vax says. He leans in to kiss Percy and it's perfect. Not the mechanics of it, of course, with their eagerness and abandon, but the intent of it and this growing feeling between them makes it seem fantastic.

 

“I do plan to make all of our lost time up, too,” Percy says once they've parted. “So don't you dare do anything stupid and get yourself killed.”

 

“I should tell you the same thing, you beautiful disaster,” Vax says, laughing.

 

Percy kisses him again just because he can, reveling in the fact that it's allowed, finally.

 

They work together to remove Percy's pants, tossing them aside and following each other down onto the bed. Percy makes sure to kiss all of Vax's scars, paying special attention to the ones he remembers Vax getting.

 

They move together, working as well in bed as they do in battle. Percy wraps a slick hand around Vax's cock and he gasps, digging sharp fingernails into Percy's shoulders.

 

“I love you. I love you,” he whispers into Vax's ear until he comes, body wracked with shudders.

 

Vax takes Percy into his mouth, drawing moans and sighs from Percy. Percy climaxes and more words of adoration pour from his lips as his fingers tighten in Vax's hair. They kiss and Percy tastes himself in Vax's mouth.

 

Vax strokes through Percy's hair, pressing kisses to every bit of Percy he can. “What do we do after this?” he asks.

 

Percy closes his eyes, enjoying the easy affection Vax gives him. “I suppose we stay together no matter what happens.”

 

Vax pets his hair until he falls asleep, and Percy dreams of himself and Vax, from the beginning to the end.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The day to face Thordak finally comes. Vox Machina stands proud with each other and with their allies. They've developed plans, of course, aren't going in without some kind of advantage, but plans are rewritten and tossed aside all the time. Whatever may come, Vox Machina is ready. They'll free Exandria, and they'll do it together.

 

Percy and Vax stand side-by-side. Percy reaches down to take hold of Vax's hand, giving one tight squeeze before releasing. He has no plans to run in the foreseeable future, not when he's finally found a home again.

 

Vox Machina starts forward.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://aramente.tumblr.com)


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